Presented by Stephen Michell Theatre Productions Ltd. at the Theatre Royal, Brighton – March 1968 and at The Duke of York’s Theatre, London – May 1968.

Character: Nicolay Von Koren.

The Story

The action takes place in the house of Alex Samoylenko and André Laevsky at a resort on the Caucasian Coast of the Black Sea, in the Autumn of 1891.

Anton Chekov didn’t pen many plays, although those he did write became extremely popular on Forties and Fifties radio, and in the Sixties on television. All did remarkably well – perhaps because these were the mediums that the author would’ve used at the time of writing if they’d been available to him. Short stories are often themselves well suited to forms of restraint. Director and adaptors, it would seem, were drawn to Chekov’s work because of the apparent ease in which the playwright could make an otherwise inert situation glow with interest.

When it came to the theatre, however, it was a different matter. Unoriginal as it may be to say so, if Chekhov had wanted his (longer) short story, ‘The Duel’, to have been a play, he’d surely have written a play. And this production showcased at the Duke of York’s by an Iowan PhD, Jack Holton Dell, whilst a capable job, makes it all the clearer that Chekhov was right.

Right: Peter as Von Koren

In the open scenes the typically Chekhovian characters and ingredients are all there – at least on the surface. A gauze backdrop representing a heaving stretch of the Black Sea coast rises to reveal a proverbial summer residence; its windows and doors thrown open to catch the breeze.

We now find ourselves in a Caucasian resort in the long hot summer of 1891. Here, in a sleepy and specific moment of time, where the cross-currents of lives which had been gently slumbering are about to be awoken.

There’s Alex Samoylenko (James Hayter) – a laid-back and welcoming ex-military physician, played by James Hayter; Marya Konstentine (Elspeth March), a hectoring and tightly-corseted matron, her husband and daughter, Katya (Janet Hannington), plus the self-important officer, Igor Kirilin (John J. Carney), who fancies his chances with the young lady.

In addition, we have Atchmianov (Anthony Watkins) – a draper, and Pobyedov (Lewis Fiander), an likable virginal deacon. Also into this provincial backwater, the author throws in three interlopers: André Laevsky (Michael Bryant) – a liberal arts graduate, who is pining for his hometown of Moscow and Nadya Federovna (Nyree Dawn Porter) – whom he’s been involved with for several years. And as if for good measure, there’s Nickolay Von Koren (Peter Wyngarde) – a German Marine Biologist with Nietzschean-Nazi ideals about the future of the race, and who has spent the summer on the Black Sea studying the development of the jelly fish.

Below (from left to right): Peter, James Hayter as Alex Samoylenko and Lewis Liander as Deacon Pobyedov.

Naydya, it occurs, is a married woman – only her husband is dead, tho’ her lover hasn’t got around to telling her yet. The two have been on the run for two years, and now as he reaches a high point of frustration with the affair, she takes other lovers and run up a series of debts at Atchmianov’s shop. Together the two have caused a public scandal by “fornicating” in the Black Sea waters.

Thunder rumbles occasionally off stage, which signifies that we’re at the wonderfully clear point of time before the storm breaks. The play’s theme tangles around love and violence as a means to an end. It’s a affecting essay in human foolishness and objectives; in other words, what is probable and what is possible. Expressed in those generous yet mildly scornful terms in which Chekhov saw his fellow man, it made appealing viewing.

The play produced so many unswerving similarities with the immediate past. For instance, isn’t it our own society – distressed and dazed by its own freedoms, disgusted at its own liberalism – that is correspondingly keen to find a Nicolay Von Korden within its number? This campaigning botanist, preaching his scientific tyranny; haven’t we heard his deadly logic before – pre-1939? Don’t some, even good liberal souls such as Deacon Pobyedov here, flirt dangerously with its persuasive strength as a welcome relief from all the indecisiveness and gloom around us now?

The splendour, of course, flows from the Chekhov essence of the piece – a flavour faithfully re-created by the author and given the understated quietness of portentously repressive emotion by director, Norman Marshall. I got a feeling of a mood preserved moments before it crumbled to dust; like an autumn leaf caught in full beauty just before its irreversible decay.

In Retrospect

It never ceases to amaze me how many of Anton Chekhov’s unhurried 19th Century reflections find their echo in the commotion of the present day. Watching his expressive creations eat out their hearts and act out their predicaments on stage takes on an almost self-absorbed fascination, like watching our modern condition reflected in a stylishly gilt, but slightly grubby mirror.

I must admit, though, to a complete and inexcusable ignorance of the Chekhov novel on which Jack Holton Dell had based ‘The Duel’. Consequently, with all the fewer trees with which to see the wood, I was able to judge it on the theatrical entity in itself. No side-tracking round to check whether or not the author had remained true to the original. And as a play, it hit me as a thing of unique splendour and arresting significance.

(Left): An original poster from the Duke of York’s Theatre.

Only hours before I saw a recording of this play, I’d watched some archive film footage from the Seventies and one hitherto rational fellow human being uttered the statement: “Student demonstrators! They ought to shoot a few. That would stop all the violence!” The speaker doubtless imagined himself as deeply rooted on the side of law and order as Nickolay Von Koren does when he speaks out so fervently and convincingly against the freedom of individuals to follow their individuality. His damnation of André Laevsky and Nadya Federovna for their chaotic emotions was a tremendous feat of twisted truths.

Peter made out of it a towering piece of theatre, as he did with the whole role. It was little wonder watching his handsome menace, that Laevsky, the object of his fervent hate, says: “Tomorrow the world will be run by men like him; and we will be the ones who put him in power.”

There were, however, a number of questions and puzzlements with which I was left. For instance: after the Deacon has illustrated the virtues of light through love, Von Koren on his world of superior men, and Madam Konstantine on the dangers of moral corruption, there is an abusive argument between Laevsky and Von Koran, but no apparent reason is given for the subsequent duel, during which Laevsky is shot in the neck. All we get is a blackout! That’s it.

We’re told that Laevsky and Nadya are to be married. Why? Has the Deacon, who had been seen as a religious buffoon, now become a considerable spiritual authority? Had the bullet from Von Koren’s pistol, perchance, softened Laevsky’s brain? Or might the scientists’ assault on his character compelled him, shuddering and quaking, into the obsessional arms of Nadya? He is, we’re invited to believe, a changed man, but are provided no real reason why.

Perhaps Chekhov’s translation is clearer in the original story, but it was most certainly a serious flaw in the play.

Press Article

The Sunday Times: 5^th May, 1968 

Jack Tinker at the World Premier  AN AUTUMN LEAF IN FULL BEAUTY It never ceases to intrigue me how many of Anton Chekhov’s languid 19th century musings find the echo in the clamour of our present day. Watching his eloquent creations eat out their hearts and act out dirt dilemma’s onstage takes on an almost narcissistic fascination, like watching our modern malaise reflected in an elegantly gilded slightly dusty mirror. I must, however, confess a total and lamentable ignorance of the Chekhov novel on which Jack Holton Dell as based the play that had its world premiere at Brighton’s Theatre Royal last night. Thus, with all the fewer trees through which to see the wood, I can judge it only as a theatrical entity in itself. No side tracking round the proscenium to check whether or not the author remains faithful to his original. And as a play it strikes me as a thing of unmistakable beauty and striking relevance.  The beauty, of course, flows from the Chekhov flavour of the piece, a flavour faithfully recreated by the author and giving the supple stillness of ominously oppressive heat by director Norman Marshall. One gets that feeling of a mood crystallised it before it crumbles to dust; an autumn leaf caught in full beauty just before the point of irrevocable decay. Thunder rumbles occasionally off stage. We are at the magnificently clear point of time before the storm breaks.  The play’s theme angles around love and violence as means to an end. It is a poignant essay in human folly and human aspiration; what is probable and what is possible. Couched in those generous yet gently mocking terms in which Chekhov saw his fellow creatures, it makes irresistible viewing.  So many direct parallels with the immediate present and the immediate past. For instance, isn’t our own society – alarmed and shaken at its own freedoms, sitting at its own permissiveness – equally willing to find a Von Koran in its midst?  This crusading botanist preaching is scientific tyranny; haven’t we heard this poisonous logic before pre-1939? Don’t some – even good liberals souls such as Deacon Popyedov here – flirt dangerously with its persuasive strength as a welcome relief from all the indecision and greatness of purpose around us now? Only hours before I took my seat in the theatre, I had listened to one hitherto rational fellow human being uttered the sentiment: “Student demonstrators! They ought to shoot a few. That would stop all the violence!”  The speaker probably imagined himself as deeply entrenched on the side of law and order as Von Koran does when he speaks out so passionately and persuasively against the freedom of individuals to follow their individuality.    His damnation of the play’s tortured lovers for their anarchy of emotion in a tremendous feet of twisted truths. Peter Wyngarde makes out of it a towering piece of theatre, as he does with the whole role. Small wonder, watching his handsome menace, that Andre Laevsky, the object of Von Koran’s passionate loathing, should say: “Tomorrow the world will be run by men like him; and we will be the ones who put him in power.”  Michael Bryant, as Laevsky, gives the line a weary, saddened emphasis as though to heighten its inevitability; the comparisons are too obvious to list.  More to the play’s point; doesn’t blood still spill before men of opposing ideals find themselves shaking hands?  All through this sensitively felt production there are performances which have their own delights. Lewis Flander as the earnest, innocent young deacon delving breathlessly to find sweetness and light in every dark corner; James Hayter as the portly military doctor beaming a benign commonsense; Bruce Walker, neatly dodging the overwhelming hypocrisy so splendidly perpetrated by Elspeth March, with the quiet dignity of a husband not yet henpecked out of existence.  For Nyree Dawn Porter’s glamorous golden Nadya the can be nothing but glorious golden praise. Here, if ever there was, is woman teetering on the brink of her own ruin, poised on the rim of eternal sadness in the pursuit of lasting happiness.  You know a compelling disturbing piece of theatre.

Associated Items

Peter in his dressing room at the Duke of York’s Theatre, London. The photograph was taken by James Hayter (who played Alex Samoyenko in ‘The Duel) and is signed and dedicated by him on the back. It was here that Peter was first introduced to Joel Fabiani – his future ‘Department S’ co-star.

Above: Peter’s copy of the script showing amendments and additions in his own hand.

Above: This is a copy of an supplementary sheet that was added to Peter’s script to help with the pronunciation of certain Russian names and words.

Above: Full page (broadsheet) advertisement for the play in the 5th May 1968 edition of The Sunday Times.

Presented by H.M. Tennant Ltd. and John C. Wilson and Barry O’Brien. British Tour, 1947.

Character: Morris Dixon

ITV Play of the Week – ‘Present Laughter’: Monday, 10th August, 1964

Character: Garry Essendine

Triumph Theatre Productions – British Tour September 1974

Character: Garry Essendine

The Story

The action takes place in the drawing room of Garry Essendine’s house.

Act I

• Scene One: Morning

Act II

• Scene One: Evening. Three days later.
• Scene Two: The next evening.

Act III

• Scene One: A week later.

Garry Essendine is the quintessential star; flamboyantly dressed and devastatingly handsome. He revels in female adulation and casual love-affairs.

Peter conveyed all that and more as Garry in Noel Coward’s play, which toured throughout the UK during the Winter of 1974.

The play was 1940’s Coward at its best, but had been skilfully updated. Although some Coward purists may have resented Peter’s reworking of this production, to many critics minds he had done an excellent job streamlining the work. Although some of the updates failed marginally, the play, which was written nearly 15 years after Coward penned some of his more famous scripts, took well to the modern treatment.

Peter, who directed as well as starred, added to his reputation for professionalism with his deft handling of the play. He proved in this particular work to be the complete actor, using it as a vehicle to manoeuvre with dazzling variations of pace. His own playing of the flamboyant lead was a first-class modernization of itself. Not only had he adapted it to the style of Jason King, who had of course given him the kind of following such as Garry Essendine would lividly envy, but enough individuality and magnetism of his own not to need to dress up in the Noel Coward mantle and turn to the latter’s affectionate self-mockery of his own public image.

Left: Peter on stage as Essendine during the 1974 British tour.

Originally, Coward had surrounded himself with décor befitting a star of those times, including a trendy wardrobe that, although elegant, amusingly over emphasized what was expected of him. His Essendine studio was eye-catching Japonaise, and his own outfits successfully competed with it for dazzle, with silk Oriental gowns, sharp fashion suits and so on, all worn with casual panache (of course!).

The play had been astutely, but sensitively, edited so that only those who were very familiar with it would be aware of the extensions. And in dispensing with Fred the Valet and retaining only the dourly contented spiritualist housekeeper, further successful paring-down was achieved.

Above: Peter as Garry Essendine with Barbara Murray as Joanna Lyppiatt in the ITV play: ‘A Choice of Coward: Present Laughter’. Broadcast: 10th August, 1964.

Below: Original posters from Peter’s appearances in ‘Present Laughter’. Left: He played Morris Dixon (1947) and, right, Garry Essendine (1974)

By nature, this is the star’s show, but in his role of both actor and director, Peter manipulated neatly so that all the other characters got their share of the action, and that each role was worth playing. Former pop star, Mark Wynter, for instance, was given a free rein in his cameo as the eccentric avant garde playwright, Ronald Maule. The woman who perused and complicated the life of the desirable Garry, where on the whole, slightly disappointing, although Jan Holden who took over the role of his elegant but long-suffering wife from Hildergarde Neil, was delightful to watch, whilst Joyce Grant as Monica was a little more cozier than the acid-tongued secretary usually seen.

The woman who did get most of the audience’s laughter and sympathy was Eileen Bell as the elderly Swedish maid, Miss Erikson, and her clothes were cleverly contrast to the more glamorous ladies.

Presented by Triumph Productions Ltd. British tour, 1973

Character: Adam

The Story

The action takes place in Adam’s Mother’s bedsitter in a cathedral town . The museums is nearby. The time is the present day.

This production of Charles Dyer’s third play in a trilogy on loneliness which began in 1963 “This is a story of a man and his mother, of courage and optimism: of how Adam becomes a saint… nearly!”

It is the present in Mammle’s attic, a Sunday in a cathedra town. The museum is nearby.

This production of Charles Dyer’s third play in a trilogy on loneliness which began in 1963 “This is a story of a man and his mother, of courage and optimism: of how Adam becomes a saint… nearly!”

Below right: Peter as Adam, with Hermione Baddeley as his mother.

This production of Charles Dyer’s third play in a trilogy on loneliness which began in 1963 with the incomparable ‘Rattle Of A Simple Man’ and ‘Staircase’ (1966), was hailed by critics as a greatly improved version than that first performed by Roy Dotrice and Beatrix Lehmann at the Arts Theatre (and others) some 18 months earlier. This time an equally powerful pair in the form of Herminone Baddeley and Peter Wyngarde had been brought together under the author’s direction, but in spite of the excellent display they gave of their versatility and talent, the impact of Dyer’s efforts were interesting, if somewhat muddled.

The two characters: an ageing, bed-ridden mother – “Mammles”, and her forlornly attached son – Adam, inhabit an attic, from where she watches the egress from the cathedral below through a mirror placed high on the wall.

Ms. Baddeley played the formidable old lady in a mood of eccentric ill-will. Clad in a turban-like auburn wig, and propped up against her pillows like a discarded bag of laundry, she is attended by her loving but volatile son, who Peter portrayed in a strong virtuoso style which belied his television posturing as Jason King.

While the grizzly old invalid spends her days fantasising about the goings-on in the world outside, her museum curator-son finds himself caught up in a dream world of his own. Feeding his mother’s fantasies, he is rarely allowed to touch on reality, and his whole life appears to revolve around an old chest which holds some extraordinary secret relating to the true identity of his father and his colonial origins.

Unlike ‘Rattle of a Simple Man’, ‘Mother Adam’ was somewhat more static, a more profound statement on human relationships. In fact, in the first act it became downright ponderous! There were many poetic, even brittle lines – a few of them pointedly wicked – as Adam indulged in both his, and his mother’s, world of make-believe. His seemingly child-like fixation with naming (and re-naming) his penis were played out by Peter with struts and spruce – even dashing – charm. The incidental delights of the piece, which involved the beleaguered son at first in pyjamas painting his mother’s bed, then dressed as an admiral in borrowed braid; a parson; a doctor, was met by the audience with laughter and applause.

The play was written in a variety of moods and melodic verbal flights. Mother and son bicker and grumble, indulge in games and sing hymns. They are two victims chained by love, resentment, and dependence. By offering sour grapes to guests, ‘Mother Adam’ shares the perverse audacity of its predecessors in the trilogy. Adam’s mocking, ironic, self-knowingness teems with such cleverness and relative balance that it is difficult to accept him as a candidate for madness or loneliness. His exclusion from the world; from marriage; from sex, seems somehow unjustified. The only consideration barring him from taking a wife is that his mother must enter a home for the elderly, but as they squabble and cuddle in incestuous monotony, any salvation by the proposed spouse is crushed by a glance at the programme: No second woman is included.

Hermione Baddley’s inimitable skill at characterisation was used to create a formidable, selfish and demanding monster of a mother, calcified with arthritis, yet played with just sufficient humour to relieve the tension. Thankfully, she resisted the temptation to go over into revue caricature – not an easy matter considering the cottage-loaf wig she wore! And yet her performance had integrity closely linked to the woman’s peculiar missionary experiences and her present existence stuck in the bottleneck of frustration by her own incapacity.

Each character was observed through the other’s eyes, and Peter added to this by portraying Adam in depth; a man tied by love, respect, and boredom – making life bearable by playing schizophrenic games of borrowed identity and pushing his inadequacy at work and sex to the recesses of his mind. Together, these two players, aided by Dyer’s direction, gave the play a surface lightness of mood which emphasised the basic seriousness of them. This underlying emptiness revealed itself in Peter’s eyes at certain despairing moments, when more potently than words they revealed his need for love – a need denied him, even by his own mother. He talks about lost opportunity; she prattles on about her past life in a blousy, domineering way. Here we had the reversal of the classical role: Instead of the daughter tied to the mother’s apron strings, draining her life away, it is the son, sacrificing himself in filial devotion.

In his programme notes, Charles Dyer said: “We should be more content at sparrows, spring-fluttering by the clock; a sudden day, tail up, then the cock-bird and satisfaction matter-of-factly.” This was typical of the gibbering language characterizing the dialogue. Adam: “You apocytical baggage!” Mother: “Christmas mandarin behind an April sofa!”

What is the man, asks Dyer, and who is his father?

But stating the subject matter so bluntly is to praise Charles Dyer. In effect, the grapes are not sour, but waxen. The dialogue, whether maundering or mandarin, has the artificial precocity of a writer doodling with words as opposed to dealing with their meaning: even less so dealing with action. The piece was repetitively laced with religious or colonial verbal attacks and criticisms. In effect, reminiscent of the wooden chest which is the centre of Adam’s existence.

On the whole, the play was presented in a most enjoyable fashion – in fact, one critic suggested that there was nothing there to offend. Even a child would enjoy the battle between age and youth. However, the play did require perseverance – the reward for which came in no short measure to be found in the brilliant and exciting performances of a fine actor and actress.

Audience Opinion

How stimulating it was to read the fine criticism by W. Paduch concerning the play ‘Mother Adam’ at the Kings. It was a good play, finely portrays by such wonderful acting. The deep tragedy underlying the bantering talk between mother and son, had a depth and profundity that the author and the actors brought to life. The symbolism made real the pain of living, transparent behind their seemingly foolish talk. May we never lose the sense of wonder at the vision of eternal youth. Dixon-Child, Southsea. My friends and I thoroughly enjoyed the play, ‘Mother Adam’, and were certainly not bored. The acting of Peter and Hermione was superb. The play was marvellously written and the words spoken, to the point of their lives, over to the audience. If this was so wrong and disgusting, then we may as well become imbeciles. The only moan I have heard from most people is the Peter Wyngarde did not look or act like Jason King. This seemed to annoy them. Lynn Haines, Cosham – The Portsmouth News – 27th February, 1973.

Critics Comments

“…an odd role you might think for Peter Wyngarde. But since the sick-room relationship is kept vital and bearable by the son’s flow of talk and outrageous play-acting, it is an attractively eloquent one for him.” – The Birmingham Evening Mail – January 23rd, 1973. “Peter Wyngarde gives a performance of near genius – a great actor in the very best sense of the word.” Harold Hobson, Theatre Critic. “…As for Peter Wyngarde, in this play he approaches with a quiet, unassuming step, very close to greatness.” The Times – January 23rd, 1973. “…And Peter Wyngarde as her much-mothered son extracts all possible sympathy from an implausible and over-written script.” Eric Shorter – Daily Telegraph January 17th, 1973.

Presented by Triumph Theatre Productions Limited. National Tour: February 1975.

Character: Vivorde Szekels/Count Dracula

The Story

The action takes place in the Main hall of Doctor Seward’s Mental Sanatorium near London in 1924. 

Act I:

• A late winter evening

 Act II:

• i. Several days later – dusk
• ii. The early hours of the following morning
• iii. The vault

I remember thinking that Count Dracula must be the modern-day Father Christmas as I walked into the Theatre Royal in York on the evening of February 3rd, 1975. The auditorium was filled mostly with teenagers as I recall, with the occasional adult of carefully cultivated nervous dispositions thrown in for good measure, and we all had a great time watching Peter doing his X-Certificate bit with the powers of darkness.

So why did they used to keep the kids away from Dracula and his pals? None of the old films had so many laughable shocks as this touring revival, and not letting the toffee-suckers in to see this would be akin to barring them from a pantomime.

To say that the play was not really scary would deny the success of a series of brilliantly executed stage effects – rats galloping and bats hurtling about to the accompaniment of delighted screams; chairs moving, books opening, doors slamming, darkness falling – all in a variety of interesting ways. But the biggest scare was reserved for the ghost train… with broad daylight and a toffee apple waiting at the other end.

On the impressive Gothic set prepared by the Billingham Forum Workshops, Peter was the master of ceremonies as the Count himself. He didn’t need to act a great deal, but appear and disappear at will in an amazing series of Victorian conjuring tricks.

His face, itself one of the best Gothic facades in show business, might be thought an asset to the part, yet more emphasis appeared to be placed on his scarlet-lined cloak.

The plot was not what could be described as awe-inspiring, switching between extremes of stage fright and long periods when the cast stood around telling each other what was what, who was who, and indeed, who was dead. Yet the audience – myself included – was content enough to wait, and watch Philip Lowrie as the madman Renfield gibbering his way in and out of his padded cell.

The unfortunate man ate rats and insects, raving behind the curtains, was mysteriously bitten on the neck, appeared drenched in blood, and was dragged out screaming: “Fools! Fools! The whole world is mad!”. A likeable character all the same.

Comic relief, should we have still needed it, was the province of David Killick – and army officer/silly-ass type who never quite got round to mentioning the “guaund piauno” but who asks Dracula: “Don’t you drink, old man?”

Leon Eagles played the exorcist professor – the one character to whom we might have looked for a little coolness and perhaps one of the genuine shudders, but he turned out to be the most melodramatic of the entire cast – the Count included!

Occasionally, the dialogue managed to laugh at itself as in Dracula’s comment about Transylvanian wine not travelling well, but more often than not, it was just background noise between the marvellous effects which were designed by Peter himself. He even spoke his great climatic oration as though it didn’t matter, and it didn’t. His stage-presence itself was simply awe-inspiring.

In Retrospect

When Count Dracula and his blood-thirsty habits descended on York, the result was never disappointing.

The play was more funny than frightening, and for the Seventies at least, a little too far-fetched to scare anyone. However, it was wonderful entertainment, with magnificent special effects, both on and off stage.

As might be expected, Peter made a splendid Count in a full-length scarlet-lined cloak. He trapped a young girl into becoming one of his undead brides with great style, but perhaps because the story is known so well, his actions were a little predictable, although never dull. Another minor criticism was that the production lacked a little in the way of suspense, and the outcome rarely seemed in doubt when the forces of the darkness clashed with those of light.

Apart from Peter himself, Sally-Jane Spencer as Mina Seward – the young girl who falls into Dracula’s clutches, and Leon Eagles as the priest who was called upon to rescue her, were excellent.

Small Bites

“Ladies and gentlemen – a word before you go. If when you retire to your beds tonight your curtains move and you see a dark shadow pass your window. An unfamiliar footfall is heard outside your door, and a face looms over you. Don’t be alarmed, it’s only me.” Spoken by Peter at the end of the play.

Left: The bespoke fangs that Peter wore whilst playing Dracula

Above: A page from the original script with Peter’s notes and revisions

Below: A sketch drawn by Peter to demonstrate how the special effects (using mirrors) in the play would work.

“All that blood-sucking and the exited response of the girl when Dracula kisses her, it’s highly sexual. There’s a fascination for girls in his impeccable manners and mesmeric quality. Men find him irresistible because they can’t stop him. For women, there is their complete abandonment to the power of a man.” Peter Wyngarde

Presented by the English Stage Company at the Theatre Royal, Brighton and the Royal Court Theatre in London. October 1956.

Character: Yang-Sun

The Story

The play takes place in the Chinese town of Setzuan in the 1930’s

• Prologue: A street, evening
• Scene 1 – A Small Tobacco Shop
• Scene 2 – Wang’s Sewer Pipe by the river
• Scene 3 – The Tobacco Shop
• Scene 4 – The Municipal Park
• Scene 5 – Wang’s Sewer Pipe
• Scene 6 – The Tobacco Shop

INTERVAL

• Scene 7 – The Tobacco Shop
• Scene 8 – A Private Dining Room in a cheap restaurant
• Scene 9 – Wang’s Sewer Pipe
• Scene 10 – The Yard behind Shen Te’s Shop
• Scene 11 – Shaui Ta’s Tobacco Factory

INTERVAL

• Scene 12 – The Tobacco Shop now an office
• Scene 13 – Wang’s Sewer Pipe
• Scene 14 – A Courtroom

Peter as Yang-Sun – an unemployed pilot

“…as Shen Ta, she falls in love with a worthless airman; at least, he is worthless to most people, only Shen Te, through her love, seeing in him potential nobility.” Raymond Marriott – Plays and Players, December 1956

Producer George Devine was surely carrying out his obligations to the audience he had created at the Royal Court Theatre in attempting the first ever professional full-scale production of Bertold Brecht’s play in English. The difficulties were formidable: his stage wasn’t big enough to begin with; nor, in fact, was his resources. The comparatively small number of actors he was able to afford were not, naturally, trained in the kind of acting that Brecht demanded – indeed, some were even expected to take on more than one part. However, the attempt proved well worth making and, even if the difficulties were not fully overcome in this production, the effort was a courageous one and deficiencies were more than compensated for by the performance of Peter Wyngarde, who tackled the difficult role of the good-for-nothing Chinese airman, Yang Sun, both imaginatively and professionally.

The little fable on which the three-hour play was strung is very simple (and none the worse for that!). Three Chinese deities – played by Esme Percy, John Moffatt and Robert Stephens – set out from Heaven on a quest. The world is to be destroyed unless they can find one good man or woman in it. For a time not only are they unable to find a good person – they don’t even meet a bad person with enough enlightened self-interest to pretend to be good! However, just when all appears to be lost, the three gods happen upon the small village of Setzuan, where a poor prostitute by the name of Shen Te takes them in thinking them to be beggars, and offers them food and shelter.

To reward her kindness, the gods give her a bag of gold with which she buys a tobacconists shop, and she is at last able to escape both her old profession and her poverty. As with so many prostitutes in fiction, Shen Te (Peggy Ashcroft) has a heart of gold, and as might be expected, some of her less scrupulous neighbours seize upon the opportunity to take advantage of her good nature, preying on her hospitality and eating her out of house and home.

At last she is forced to invent a tough male cousin, Shui Ta (herself in disguise) who, with the help of a policeman, drives the rabble from the shop. As herself, she falls in love with Yang Sun (Peter Wyngarde), an unemployed pilot and promises to find him the large bribe necessary to buy himself into a job. However, as her male cousin and protector, she discovers that the airman is only using her for his own ends, but by now she has not only been betrayed and exploited, but is pregnant by him too!

Nevertheless, as the tough ruthless male, she flourishes, and after setting up a tobacco factory, installs the pilot as her foreman who, by grinding down the poor, makes a fortune for his employer. Wickedness, it appears, is always rewarded whilst goodness is trampled upon.

Below: Peter’s own sketch of his character, Yang Sun

Knowing that Shen Te has a stake in her cousin’s thriving business, Yang Sun accepts her proposal of marriage, and a wedding party is arranged to take place at the tobacco factory. But when the pilot discovers that his intended bride knows of his deception, he attempts suicide. In spite of his dishonesty, Shen Te takes pity on the weak, self-indulgent airman when she finds him about to hang himself in the woods. Sitting under a tree in the rain, she diverts him with a charmingly told ‘Story Of The Cranes’.

During the coming weeks, She is forced more and more frequently to adopt the guise of Shui Ta in order to keep her pregnancy a secret – until it seems that Shen Te has disappeared altogether. Convinced that the vile factory owner has murdered his friend, Wang the water carrier (Peter Woodthorpe) confides in the local barber, Shu Fu about Shen Te’s disappearance. Since Shu Fu (George Devine) is himself in love with Shen Te, and enlists the help of Yang Sun, who on learning that his lover is pregnant with his child, forces the police to arrest Shui Ta, who is brought to trial.

On hearing of Shen Te’s plight, the three wandering gods return to earth as her judges, and some irony is extracted from the respectable and the rich speaking on behalf of the tight-fisted capitalist. When Shen Te at last reveals herself as the impostor and the villagers discover her subterfuge, the gods airily insist that she is the one good woman they require to justify them leaving the world as it is, and they promptly return to Heaven.

Above: Peter (high stool to the left ) and the rest of the cast in a scene from the play.

In Retrospect

There were many scenes in this play, but there was little sense of movement. They illustrated what was intended to be geometrical clarity and the simplicity of a fairy tale – the rather dusty thesis that human beings, or it may be the world that they have created for themselves, are so constituted that it is virtually impossible for them to do good without trampling on others faces.

Below Right: Peter (lying on bench), with Dame Peggy Ashcroft and Peter Woodvine

The fable consists of deliberate simplifications, but the treatment is forbiddingly portentous. While the woman of Setzuan is a poor prostitute, her natural goodness is noticed by three deities who happen to be on a virtue-spotting tour of the world. Set up in a shop by the gods and bidden by them to remain good and yet to love, she finds that her goodness is likely to be her ruin.

The hand that is extended to the beggar is at once torn off. She tries to resolve the schizophrenic conflict that has been set up in her mind between sentiment and judgment, feeling and fact, heart and head, by dividing herself into two different people. She is She Te, the good woman; she is also Shui Ta, an invented cousin who protects her property from parasites including, not least, the young pilot with whom she falls in love and who proposes marriage.

When she discovers that she is to have a child by her lover, Yang Sun, the tight-fisted spiv takes over her affairs completely and adds to her property by viciously sweating labour and exploiting human credulity. As the woman she is merely a heroine; as the man, merely a villain; and both belong spiritually to the cartoon-strip of life.

The only moment in which Shen Te humanizes the heroine is when she proposes marriage to the hungry, unemployed pilot who is contemplating suicide. The young man’s despair, the tenderness of the woman, and the gathering thunder clouds over the trees all contrive to touch the scene with poetry. The reminder of the story is told, as in most Brecht plays, in a series of scenes and song – some brilliant, others not so, but which provide Peter with his first opportunity to sing live on stage.

By all accounts, the first act was the the worst, but this was worth enduring, as the second and third would give Peter the chance to bring himself to the fore as the shiftless pilot. Other notable performances came, of course, from Dame Peggy Ashcroft in the lead role of Shen Te, Peter Woodthorpe as Wang and George Devine as the affluent barber, Shu Fu.

“One day at a rehearsal – remember Peter was playing Peggy Ashcroft’s lover, the flyer who got her pregnant – he said to me, “Robert, George (Devine) has asked me to slow my delivery down. The trouble is, you see, when I slow down my way of speaking, my voice gets lower and lower and when my voice gets lower, I get very, very sexy. D’you think that would be right for that scene? I’m not sure. What d’you think? Perhaps it would be.’ Peter made me laugh so much, I can still remember it.” Robert Gillespie

Critics Comments

“…Mr Peter Wyngarde plays the lover whose falsity deepens with appeals to his covertness, firmly and well…” The Times – Thursday, November 1st, 1956 “Peter Wyngarde is outstanding amongst many sound performers.” The Oxford Times “…Peter Wyngarde gives an R.A.F. type of interpretation of the self-indulgent airman…” The Guardian – Thursday, November 8th, 1956 “…Peter Wyngarde has avoided the squalor inherent in the whole thing. I do not see that he could have done it any better…” Punch – Wednesday, November 7th, 1956 “…Mr Peter Wyngarde managed both his romantic and his selfish side with tact and discretion.” The New Statesman – November 10th, 1956 “…Peter Wyngarde is an attractive, well-voiced rogue of a lover…” Theatre World – November 11th, 1956

A.K.A.: ‘Voices Of Man’

Broadcast: Monday, 13th January 1964 (USA)

Character: Edward Mirabelle/Himself

Rehearsals took place from Monday, 14th October to Thursday, 24th October, 1964. A full dress rehearsal for all actors was held on Friday, 25th October.

The Esso World Theatre was a showcase of what was considered to be the best of British theatre, which was premiered on WOR-TV (Channel 9) in the United States on Tuesday, January 13th, 1959.

The Standard Oil Company (Esso) – much the most artistically adventurous of all the sponsors, were given the opportunity to offer some of London’s top players a chance to illustrate what was colourfully described by the Washington Post as: “The Puritan and Cavalier’ threads running through British culture.”

Below Right: Peter with Anna Massey and, (background), Sir Ralph Richardson

With Sir Ralph Richardson acting as a guide through the ages, and a company consisting on none other than Peter Wyngarde, Anna Massey, Angela Baddeley, and Paul Rogers, the excursion through the pages of British literature proved, it seemed, to be an “unreserved joy”, as the New York Times described it; “A feast for the viewer hungering for exiting words spoken with the precision and eloquence that are the traditions of the British stage.”

ITC fans will doubtless be familiar with director Cyril Frankel, who was personally chosen by Producer, Bert Lawrence, to take charge of the project, and in doing so, succeeded in avoiding even the slightest trace of hackneyed staging, and displaying an enthralling diversity of visual concepts which ranged from readings on a park bench, to comedy in an empty room, to an off-screen rendition of Shakespeare – illustrated by a camera scanning the interior walls of Westminster Abbey.

In order to present a suitable opening, Angela Baddeley kicked-off the proceedings by reading an in presentation of Geoffrey Chaucer’s ‘The Wife of Bath Tale’, which was filmed in a field of wild horses. ‘Paradise Lost’ brought together Sir Ralph Richardson and Anna Massey, followed by excerpts from Robert Herrick, John Bunyon and John Dunne.

But the highlight of the evening was undoubtedly a scene from ‘The Way of the World’, which was performed by Peter in the role of Mirabelle, with Anna Massey as Millamant.

Bringing the hour to a close was a contemporary example of the theme of ‘Puritan versus the Cavalier ‘. From a bench in London’s Hyde Park, Peter Wyngarde and Paul Rodgers recited an extract from ‘One Warm Sunday’, taken from ‘Portrait Of And Artist As a Young Dog’, by Dylan Thomas.

Brief Synopsis

One of the most popular Restoration comedy of manners escapades, William Congreve’s The Way of the World follows the story of Edward Mirabell and his love Millamant. To ensure the inheritance of Millamant’s dowry, the two need the consent of her disdainful and difficult aunt, Lady Wishfort. However, Lady Wishfort does not approve of their union and instead wants her own nephew, Sir Wilful, to marry Millamont. Within this conflict are the eavesdropping and fickle Mrs. Marwood – a former lover of Mirabell – who is having an affair with Fainall (the husband of her friend), Foible and Waitwell’s secret wedding, and the mysterious Sir Rowland, a suitor to Mrs. Wishfort. How will Mirabell and Millamant get consent (and the money) for their marriage? Will Fainall’s affairs be revealed? Who is Sir Rowland? The Way of the World is a true satiric examination of the affectations and manners of an upper-class society, with a witty bite that continues centuries later.

Running Order

• ‘Puritan Versus Cavalier’: A short play-within-a-paly set in York. The drama being performed is of God (Peter Wyngarde) conversing with Noah (Ralph Richardson) and his wife (Anna Massey). The Wakefield Mystery Plays – edited by Martial Rose, Doubleday & Co. Inc., Garden City, New York, 1962.
• The 2nd Section is set at York Minster, with Richardson as Satan, Anna Massey as Eve, with Peter Wyngarde narrating.
• Next, a prologue from Geoffrey Chaucer’s, ‘The Wife of Bath’ – read by Ralph Richardson.
• There are then readings of a selection of poems which were illustrated on screen by drawings from ‘The Pilgrims Progress’. This was then followed by a short intermission, after which was a reading of ‘One Warm Saturday’ – a short story by Dylan Thomas.
• There then follows a short play featuring Peter Wyngarde as Mirabelle and Anna Massey as Mrs. Millamant.
• Next, a reading by Ralph Richardson under the title, ‘Jeremy Collier’ – with the voices of Peter Wyngarde, Anna Massey and Paul Rogers.
• After the tolling of the bell at York Minster, Richardson recites from T.S. Elliot’s ‘Choruses From The Rock’

‘Esso World Theater’ Seen in Premiere The New York Times January 13th, 1964 Theatre as rich and sat­isfying as the television medium has known for some time came last night in the premiere of the “Esso World Theater” on WOR‐TV (Chan­nel 9). The Standard Oil Com­pany (N. J.), much the most artistically adventurous of all sponsors, had the happy no­tion of offering some of Lon­don’s top players to illustrate the Puritan and Cavalier threads running through the British culture. With Sir Ralph Richardson serving as a guide down through the ages, and a com­pany consisting of Anna Mas­sey, Angela Baddeley, Paul Rogers and Peter Wyngarde, the excursion through the pages of English literature was an unreserved joy, a feast for the viewer hunger­ing for exciting words spoken with precision and elo­quence that are in the tradi­tion of the British stage. Moreover, Bert Lawrence, the producer, and Cyril Frank­el, the director, avoided the slightest trace of hackneyed staging and displayed an en­thralling diversity of visual concept that ranged from a reading on a park bench to comedy in a drawing room to an off‐the‐screen rendition illustrated by a camera slow­ly scanning the interior of Westminster Abbey. To have a suitable restful start, the proceedings opened with Miss Baddeley’s inter­pretation of an excerpt from Chaucer’s “The Wife of Bath’s Tale.” The edited exposition of the joys of present pleasure. was staged in an open field, where restless horses in the background, plus an uneven­ness in the sound tract, were a shade distracting. But Miss Baddeley was beguilingly earthy in her countdown of husbands The seduction of Eve in Milton’s “Paradise Lost” brought together Sir Ralph as the serpent and Miss Mas­sey as Eve. For electric play­ing in the starkest of settings the confrontation was magnificent. And for Miss Massey it marked the beginning of what was to prove a personal triumph of the first magnitude. To carry forward the con­flict between the sacred and the profane there were excerpts from Robert Herrick and John Bunyan and John Donne. But a particular nightlight was the scene from William Congreve’s “The Way of the World,” with Miss Massey as Millamant and Mr. Wyngarde as Mirabell. The hilarious sub­tlety of the humor and the high style of the occasion were perfectly realized in the superb playing achieved under the inspired guidance of Mr. Frankel. Miss Massey was completely captivating in the brilliance of her characteriza­tion of knowledgeable femi­ninity. Moments later Miss Massey was seen as the down‐to‐earth Elizabeth coping with a fussy conceit of Mr. Collins’s in “Pride and Prejudice.” The portrayal of the minister by Mr. Rogers was nothing short of a gem in his delightful. Bringing the hour to a close was a contemporary example of the theme of “Puritan ver­sus Cavalier.” On a park bench Mr. Rogers and Mr. Wyngarde recited an extract from “One Warm Saturday,” taken from “Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dog,” by Dylan Thomas. And then Sir Ralph was seen walking from the Poet’s Corner toward the main altar of Westminster Abbey, while his voice was heard reciting an excerpt from. “The Rock,” by T. S. Eliot: The juxtaposition was striking.. Future monthly instalments of “Esso World The­atre” will explore the cultures of many other countries. On last night’s evidence the pro­ject is in excellent hands, which promises to make a prime contribution to civilized television.

Critics Comments

 “The hilarious subtlety of the humour and the high style of the occasion were perfectly realised in the superb playing achieved under the inspired guidance of Cyril Frankel. Mr Peter Wyngarde was completely captivating in the brilliance of his characterisation.” The New York Times – January 14th, 1964.

N.B. The production also featured actors from the York Festival Theatre Company.

Presented by Harry H. Miller Productions at the Metro Bourke Street Theatre, Melbourne, Australia. May 1972

Character: Ben Butley

The action is set in the office of an English lecturer at a university in London, England.

Above: Peter as Ben Butley

Some Background

When ‘Butley’ began its run in Melbourne, Australia, it was already enjoying great success thousands of miles away in London, and believed by many critics to be one of the most brilliant pieces of contemporary writing ever to hit the commercial stage. The entertaining skill of its author – Hampshire-born, Simon Gray – had already been recognized with a London Evening Standard Drama Award, and public response had confirmed the enthusiasm with which the critics had greeted it. For anyone who has never had the opportunity to see ‘Butley’ (Alan Bates took the lead role in the 1973 American Film Theatre Production), the only way to describe it is a bitingly funny observation of a very credible situation involving difficult and often abrasive human relationships.

The play, which is set in an office of the University of London, centres around the exploits of one Ben Butley – a lecturer and alcoholic – who succeeds in insulting just about anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path. Harry H. Miller, head of the theatre production company which staged the play at the Metro Theatre in Melbourne said at the time that he felt they were fortunate to have been able to secure Peter’s services in the lead role. “His television series have made him internationally popular, “ he said, “and anyone fortunate enough to have seen him perform in the theatre abroad will have no doubt of his gifts as a stage actor. My determination to cast him in a production of mine began when I met him during a brief visit he made to Australia little more than a year ago, and I am happy that the opportunity has occurred with this production of Butley.” In the play, Peter played a cantankerous man who shares both his office and flat with Joseph, his former star pupil, who is now a teacher himself.

The Story

The word Butley might well one day pass into language. As Mitty is to daydreaming, Butley is to self-destruction. Not the simple physical suicide, but the death of a thousand self-inflicted emotional wounds.

On the day that the story is set, Ben faces both the breakdown of his marriage to Anna, and the reproductions of his intense relationship with Joseph. His painful discoveries are made against a backdrop of University politics and the instability of student unrest. Ben, of course, greets every twist and turn with a blistering torrent of expletives and rhetoric. What was so wonderful about Peter’s performance as the defeatist Butley, was his ability to be so funny in the face of such tragedy. His stark, unsentimental approach to Ben’s relationship with Anna and Joseph, and the cynical send-up of his academic life, coupled with his sceptical view of the teacher/pupil associations were truly stunning.

Peter Wyngarde plays university lecturer, Ben Butley, who shares his office and his flat with a former star pupil, Joey, now also a teacher. On the day that the play is set, Butley faces both the ultimate breakdown of his marriage and of his intense friendship with Joey. Butley’s painful discoveries are made against a background of petty university politics and unease about student dissent. He greets them with a blistering torrent or repartee and rhetoric.

Butley is the person who wilfully wrecks all his personal relationships; who mocks everything he hold sacred, who murders all he holds dearest. His moment of complete self-abasement is his orgasm of fulfilment. Simon Gray’s play was a brilliant character study and a profound one.

When the play begins, Ben is waiting with malice aforethought for Joe to return from a weekend spent with ben’s rival, Reg Nutall (Bruce Kerr). Joes’ dilemma is to decide whether to leave Ben for Reg, and then summon the courage to do it. Ben recognises his doubts and sets about multiplying them and adding to Joe’s confusion. He taunts and torments Joe, stalks him cat-and-mouse fashion, freeing him momentarily and then pinning him again with his claws.

He teases and tantalises, advancing backwards and retreating forwards – driving his victim nearer and nearer to the corner from which there is no escape. Lover, wife, colleague, pupils – all are prey to the lash of Ben’s tongue and the dark side of his mind. And they all flinch and retreat in the face of persistent malevolence. And what a malevolence! Misanthropy dressed in magnificent words; the summit of sarcasm; a spluttering series of verbal firecrackers exploding across the footlights.

Structurally it is unorthodox. Its main character is on stage for its duration and the plot unfolds in a series of verbal punch-ups between Butley and the satellite characters

Butley wins all the battles but loses the war. Academic niceties such as “balance” and “interplay” of characters go by the board. Butley hogs the lot and a wonderfully convincing self lacerating sardonic man emerges. A tormented tormentor driven by daemons he recognises but cannot control.

From the moment he ambled into the seedy office, Peter Wyngarde was in full control of the main character. He imbued Ben with a sense of physical self-disgust. This was no intellectual’s absentminded (or studied) shabbiness. You could almost smell his socks!

The climax was the finest piece of dramatic writing since ‘A Man For All Seasons’. It was a confrontation between Ben and his rival, Reg. They began their joust slowly, warily; rapier against cutlass. Ben stepped up the pace. Joe enters. Ben realises this is his last chance to keep the vacillating Joe, so he throws it away in a glorious go-for-broke avalanche of taunts and jeers.

Joe is spellbound, amused, and finally alienated. Ben’s best performance brings about his defeat. He is alone.

Butley was first presented in London in 1971, with Alan Bates in the title role, with Richard Briers taking over the part. A friend of mine was fortunate enough to see both the above, but reported that Peter eclipsed them both.

Above: The Metro Theate, Melbourne. on the opening night of Butley.

Critics Comments

‘Peter Wyngarde as Butley is nothing short of superb. His delivery, his timing, his sense of the dramatic leaves nothing to be desired. In one of the finest performances I’ve ever seen he creates a Butley that is real in every sense, It is possible to believe that Wyngarde has ever been anyone but Butley. He is cutting, dashing, active and melodramatic – a whole gamut of emotions and nuances. I find myself short of superlatives to describe his wonderful performance; a performance that entranced the audience from beginning to end, that never flagged or slowed down, indeed it became more intense with every moment. The remainder of the cast were perfect foils for Wyngarde’s brilliance.” The Planet – 1st June, 1972 ‘Peter Wyngarde presents this two-level figure with an actor’s skill and psychologicalist’s sensitivity.” The Courier Mail “It was the finest acting performance I have seen since Marlon Brando in ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’ The West Australian

Presented by the London Arts Theatre Committee Ltd. at The Arts Theatre, London – April 1954.

Character: A Young Man/The Ghost

The Story

Act I:

• A wood near a lake, in provincial France; early May

Act II:

• The edge of the lake; June

Act III:

• Isabel’s room; the next day

Above: Peter (Centre, standing) as A Young Man/Ghost

If you believe in ghosts and the after-life, then this charming play would have delighted you, I’m sure. But even if you don’t, chances are, you’d have been every bit as enchanted as the characters were said to have been. No doubt Jean Giraudoux’s ‘Intermezzo’, which was admirably translated by Maurice Valency as ‘The Enchanted’, wrote the piece for an audience who were much more sceptical and fatalistically indifferent to the matters of life and death than we are today.

But it was full of charm, wit, philosophy, satire and whimsical inventiveness than the listener who, according to the authors theories, were much more important than the beholder, were compelled into his world and there held spellbound and persuaded to believe. The tale begins by establishing that life within a small town in provincial France has never been quite the same since the report of a the untimely death of a young man by drowning which, in turn, has spawned stories of a ghostly apparition close to a local lake.

Happiness has at last descended upon the town! And further still, chance has discovered for once a sense of fair play; in a local lottery, the cash prize has gone to the neediest couple instead of the richest, while the consolation prize of a motorcycle has been won, for the first time, by a young man instead of the Mother Superior of the convent! However, the authorities in Paris, horrified at this “subversion of the natural order”, send down an Inspector, who is the very embodiment of good sense, and armed with reason and regulations, is to report on these alarming manifestations and cosmic radicalism. He sets about trying to persuade the local committee – the dim-witted Mayor, the somewhat philosophical Doctor, and the Supervisor of Weights and Measures – that in fact there is no ghost, and that a young woman by the name of Isabel, who claims to be in touch with it, is nothing but a wicked influence.

The second clause is easier to prove, since Isabel is standing in for the local schoolmistress, and the flock of little girls who accompany her are soon to be in a dangerous frame of mind. Less easy to prove, however, is the non-existence of the ghost and the Inspector, who has found himself attracted to the beautiful, but other-worldly teacher, has to fall back on trying to exorcise the spectre instead. When it is rumoured that Isabel is to meet with the spectre by the lakeside to learn from him, she hopes, the true meaning of life and death, the members of the Committee solemnly congregate in a nearby wood to spy on her. It soon becomes apparent that she is in love with the ghostly young man, but little known to her, the Inspector has hired two doleful assassins to test whether or not the spirit is for real. When the ghost finally materializes, the somewhat poetic image is instantaneously shattered by the sound of bullets ripping from the executioners revolvers: the “ghost” was indeed merely flesh and blood, and falls dead into the distraught school teacher’s arms. Yet no sooner has the young man paid the ultimate penalty for his dishonesty, that his spirit rises to confound the inspector and his henchmen. The story concludes when, the following day, the ghost visits Isabel in her room, where he begs her to join him on the “other side”.

A bizarre scene of rivalry between the spirit and the Government Inspector ensues, and the rest of the townsfolk are enlisted to combine their efforts to help save the young teacher from stepping through the door which Death has left so invitingly open. In retrospect: To quote Jean Giraudoux himself, the effect of the ‘The Enchanted’ was to leave its audience “bewitched, bothered and bewildered”. Bothered? A great deal. Bewildered? A little. But bewitched? Entirely! What bothers me, however, is how to get the extraordinary mixture of fantasy, realism, philosophy, occultism, satire, poetry, and good old-fashioned French logic into any kind of description that might convey something of its atmosphere.

What bewilders me is the multiplicity of things that it had to say. What bewitched me is Giraudoux himself, and his astonishing faculty for being absurd and profound, satirical and moving, all at the same time! Who but he could conduct a serious discussion on life and death, by the way of a mock-solemn story of a French multiplicity scandalized by the discovery of a well-authenticated ghost in their midst? Who else could hold an audience rapt over a scene in which a pompous Government official develops the theme that if one ghost is allowed, then all the myriads of dead will come thronging back to life to disturb the political stability of the entire country? But I should not indulge too much in continuing a description of the play, for inevitably a prose outline would only serve to destroy the magic and, anyhow, it could give no idea of the ingenious invention and charming fancy which was built up right from its beginning. However, it was pleasing to read that John Fernald received the accolades that he so richly deserved, as a play of this kind tends to make considerable demands on a producer. There is first an unusual amount of tricky stage management which, I understand, was triumphantly achieved at the Arts Theatre. The great climax, for instance, where Peter as the ghost, makes his final bid for Isabel; she is “out”, but still revivable, and the entire cast combine with the tin-pot town band outside to get through her unconsciousness in a concerted cacophony of sound from the living world to draw her back. The scene was absolutely superb, and was brilliantly handled by all concerned.

No less difficult for the producer was to strike the widest range of notes that the play needed and yet sustain the prevailing mood of fantasy which held it together. Under Robert A. Batty’s expert direction, this occasionally slow-moving production, in which grouping, lighting and atmospheric off-stage sounds were made all the more spell-binding in no small part by Peter’s stylish and imaginative portrayal of the young man/ghost. His handling of the part successfully suggested ghostliness without obviously straining for the macabre. Of course ‘The Enchanted’ was outrageous nonsense; it was absurd to think that the officials of a provincial French town might be concerned by the alleged activities of a local ghost or for them to hire two assassins to shoot the apparition in order to prove to both the citizens and themselves, that he was in fact flesh and blood!

However, as the almost poetic exchanges between Peter as the ghost and Valerie Hanson as the infatuated schoolmistress never allowed the audience to pick holes in it. It was so surely and beautifully shaped, with masterly dramatic sense and high levels of imagination, that even its long-drawn-out wordiness and irrelevant stuffing’s were readily forgiven at the interplay of shadow and scintillation, and at the fundamental searching’s for the mystery of itself. It is obvious the author meant his play to be seen as a huge and elaborate joke, and in doing so, to be pondered on many different levels. The thing now becomes a philosophical speculation argued with impeccable logic; now it is a piece of extravagant satire at the expense of the town officials. Again, there is a kind of poetic evocation of the atmosphere which is traditionally kind to theatrical phantoms, with a witty and charming interpretation of the innocence of the schoolmistress; a wonderfully burlesque view of provincial organizations and of all the sights and sounds of life calculated to rescue a human being from the clinging hands of death.

Critics Comments

“…Peter Wyngarde portrays the ghost with a style and grace rarely witnessed in the theatre…” Plays and Players – April 1954. “…Peter Wyngarde is as attractive facially, vocally and artistically as a young Olivier…” The New Statesman – April 10th, 1954.

Over the years, Peter has won numerous awards – many of them converted honours, others somewhat more bizarre.

Acting Awards

‘Most Promising Newcomer’ for portrayal of Count Marcellus in ‘Duel of Angels’ on Broadway, New York.

‘San Francisco Award for Best Actor In A Foreign Play’ for portrayal of Count Marcellus in ‘Duel of Angels’.

‘Television Actor of the Year’ (Guild of Producers and Directors) for his portrayal of Ferdinand de Levis in ‘Loyalties’ on ITV.

Award Nominations

‘Best Actor’. Voted for by The Guild Of Television Producers and Directors.

‘Best Actor’. Emmy. For his portrayal of Stewart Kirby in the Avengers episode, ‘Epic’

‘European Television Personality Of The Year’. Satellite and Cable Television viewers – European Community.

Additional Awards

‘Best Dressed Man in Britain’. Voted for by the listeners of Radio Luxembourg and readers of FAB 208 magazine.

‘Man of the Year’ (West Germany).

Above: Peter receiving the award on 14th November, 1971. See the certificate here.

‘Best Dressed Man in Britain’. Voted for by the listeners of Radio Luxembourg and readers of FAB 208 magazine.

Above: Peter receiving his ‘Best Dressed Man’ award from Miss Radio Luxemburg in 1971.

‘Neck-Tie Man of the Year’ as voted for by the Neck Tie Manufacturers Association, (West) Germany

Above: Peter arriving at Dusseldorf Airport to receive the award for “Neck-Tie Man Of The Year’.

‘The Man We Would Most Like To Lose Our Virginity To’ (Australia)

‘The Man We Would Most Like To Be Lost In Space With’ (By a survey of Texan schoolgirls).

‘Neck-Tie Man of The Year’. (West Germany).

‘The Man With The Sexiest Voice On TV’ As voted by readers of The Sun newspaper.

‘Most Compulsive Male TV Character’. As voted by readers of the TV Times.

‘Sex of the Best’ As voted by readers of She magazine.

‘The “Unofficial’ Mister World’: As voted by readers of ‘The Daily Mail.

‘The Most Kissable Man In Britain’: As voted by readers of ‘Petticoat’ magazine.

Above: From a shoot organised by the publishers of Petticoat magazine.

‘Sexiest Actor and Character’: 1. Peter Wyngarde as Jason King. 2. Peter Wyngarde as Dracula – as voted for by readers of The Sun newspaper.

Film Awards

The following are awards and nominations for films in which Peter starred.

The Innocents:

1961

• National Board of Review, USA
• Awarded (NBR Award): Best Director – Jack Clayton

1962

BAFTA

• Awarded: Best Film from any Source
• Nominated: Best British Film

Cannes Film Festival

• Nominated (Palme d’Or): Jack Clayton

Directors Guild of America

• Nominated: Outstanding Directorial Achievement in Motion Pictures
• Awarded (DGA Award): Jack Clayton

Edgar Allan Poe Awards

• Awarded: Best Motion Picture
• Best Script: Truman Capote and William Archbald

Writers Guild of America

• Nominated: Best Written American Drama: Truman Capote and William Archbald.

2014

British Film Institute

• ‘The Most Frightening British Horror Film Ever Made’,

Night Of The Eagle/Burn, Witch, Burn

1963

• Hugo Award – Best Dramatic Presentation

Flash Gordon

1981

• Nominee: BAFTA – Best Costume Design.
• Nominee: BAFTA – Best Production Design/Art Direction

Presented by Triumph Theatre Productions: British National Tour and at the Adelphi Theatre, London 1973.

 Character: The King of Siam

“Yes, Louis, I like him very much indeed!” Anna Leonowens – speaking of the King

The Story

Whether or not you believe in the basic idea of the Victorian governess taming the Eastern despot to bring Siam into the orbit of Western ideas, Sally Anne Howes shone brilliantly as Anna Leonowens – singing, acting and dancing superbly opposite Peter Wyngarde as King Mongkut, who had the formidable task of playing the part associated so strongly with Yul Brynner. He gave a harsher, more barbaric conception of the role, and in doing so, succeeded to a remarkable degree in exorcising the ghost of his predecessor.

When this Forum Billingham production hit the London stage in October of 1973, it had been almost twenty years to the day from the very first performance of Rodgers’ and Hammerstein’s musical on Drury Lane. Through the years its tunes had kept alive the memories of the barbaric King of Siam’s conflict with the genteel English Governess. Now once more, Victorian primness mingled with Eastern dignity and pageantry in a truly first-class revival.

Undoubtedly, the strengths of this likeable musical were the score and the sentimental use of the King’s children – each of whom had their tiny bit of business to perform, and their efforts were rewarded with enough applause to make their seniors green with envy – though they too were given an astonishingly warm welcome. Songs such as “Hello Young Lovers”, “Getting To Know You” and “Shall We Dance?” were greeted by the enthusiastic sell-out audience at each and every performance as if they were old friends, and the singing too was exceptionally well executed, particularly by Ms Howes, who showed an authority on stage few critics thought she possessed.

With Peter, however, we leave the sphere of music for that of acting, for although he had a number or two that he performed in a half-spoken, half-sung style, his portrayal of the King moved from cruel autocracy to the “civilization” of the Western World that he could only half comprehend, and touched depths of understanding rarely ever encountered in a musical. With his hair drawn back into a top-knot at the crown and with his circumflex moustache remaining to remind us that he’d once been the debonair Jason King, he built up an imaginary character rather as Robert Stephens did with his Atahualipa; lacking any real knowledge of the actual man, he assembled a collection of characteristics which the audience were quite willing to accept as the real thing.

In King Mongkut, Peter portrayed a contradictory combination of charm and cruelty, of feudal instincts and of a desire to progress which was epitomized in the performance of David Morris as his eldest son, Crown Prince Chululongkorn, who has recognized the need for change but who has remained totally loyal to his father. Nevertheless, Peter made a dashing enough King, especially when the Governess, swaying and swooning in her crinoline, teaches him to waltz.

Left: Peter and Sally Anne Howes perform the famous ‘Shall We Dance’ sequence

Although he may have lacked the bulk and authority of Yul Brynner, Peter still managed the role in a style that was personal, charming and finally, moving. His unique interpretation gave the King a more abrasive approach to any problems arising. With feet astride, hands on hips and head tilted sideways, Peter was the complete dictator, yet at the same time, he injected a touch of humour, not only in his facial and finger-waving gestures, which immediately endeared him to the audience. Dressed in a series of embroidered house-coats by Jasper ver Deep décolletage which revealed his somewhat unSiamesely hairy chest, Peter portrayed the role with his usual air of flamboyance, and was totally convincing as both the monarch and savage, but coming into his own in the final quiet moments.

Even those who are not particularly sympathetic to the idiom of the musical would have probably enjoyed this show and then been caught up in its sentimental, but not maudlin, story. From the moment that we see the English widow arrive in Bangkok in the 1860’s, as governess to the King’s children, to discovering that there are over 60 of them with another dozen or so on the way, we are swept along by the enchanting tale which stems from the difference between the Eastern and Western way of life, and on the mutual respect and love which develops between Anna and the King.

Above: Peter as the King, with Stephen Grover as Louis Leonowens and Patricia Michael, who took over as Anna Leonowens when Sally Anne Howes left the production.

In Retrospect

‘Showboat’ had hoisted its anchor and Rogers and Hammerstein’s Siamese classic had taken its place on London’s Drury Lane for the autumn and Christmas season in 1973. However, the American musical was committed in the main to proving that the advent of the British Governess was a good thing for Siam. Whistling her happy tune, she infected the downtrodden with courage; she mounted a dramatization of ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin’ which helped to persuade the King that absconding lovers should not be punished; and the sight of a woman standing up to his bad tempered father proved to Prince Chululongkorn that when he eventually becomes king, no one would need to grovel.

This remarkably handsome revival appeared a good deal more acceptable to theatre-goers than the rather messy versions which had preceded it over the years. It did not aspire to the splendours of the original version at the Adelphi, but it did not skimp either; the settings were elegant and tasteful, the orchestra made an impressive sound, and only the lighting seemed a little hesitant.

In the lead roles, Peter and Sally Anne Howes made stately and appealing work of playing the barbarian King and the widowed Governess, and of whom Duncan C. Wheldon, director of Triumph Theatre Productions described as, “An absolutely delightful couple.”

Of course, many people would’ve had the vision of Yul Brynner and Deborah Kerr etched in their minds when they took their seats at the opening night. Well, that was too bad for Mr Brynner and Ms Kerr! Peter, with his shaggy mane swept back into a top-knot and his famous Zapata moustache in its usual villainous droop, stood astride on his padded throne, and succeeded in instilling a deal of sheer acting into the role. There were many moments when the chemistry between he and Ms Howes was so effective that the action developed a genuine dramatic tension. Although it must be said that he sometimes looked uneasy in his role as the savage, he did come into his own in the quieter moments, and his moving portrayal of the King’s death in the final scene.

Regal Facts

Right: A distraught Mrs Anna with the dead King.

• More than 400 youngsters were auditioned for the parts of the Kings children – 56 of them were finally chosen. Three groups of 8 to 14-year-olds worked on a rota basis to perform on alternate nights of the week, with one group of stand-ins. Amongst the group of 11-year-olds was Charlotte Barker – daughter of comedian, Ronnie.
• The play visited most of Britain’s principal theatres during a 12 week period during the summer of 1973, before reaching the West End of London on Wednesday, October 10^th of that year.
• After Peter and Sally Ann Howe’s dined together at Mario and Franco’s Terrazza restaurant during the plays visit to the Grand Theatre in Leeds, the head Chef was said to be so delighted to see his famous clients that he served up a rather special dish the following day, called Medallions De Veau a’la Jason.
• On September 13^th, 1973, Peter and Sally Ann Howes sailed into the Pool of London on the Chinese junk, the Hoi Lung (Sea Dragon), in full costume to publicise the opening of the show in the West End. (See newspaper cutting).
• Peter sang three songs in play: ‘A Puzzlement’ in Act 1; ‘The Song of the King’ (with Anna) and ‘Shall We Dance?” (with Anna) in Act 2.
• The management of the Adelphi theatre in Drury Lane reported that they were unable to cope with the demand from female patrons asking for opera-style binoculars, as those in the Upper Circle and Rear Stalls were desperate to get a close-up view of Peter!
• The production boasted an orchestra of over sixty musicians, and the sets were designed by the legendary Terry Pearson.
• After every energetic performance of the famous ‘Shall We Dance?’ segment, the audience would demand an equally energetic encore of the waltz. Although always happy to oblige, due to the sweltering heat from the theatre lights and the weight of the heavy costumes, Peter and his co-star, Sally Anne Howes, would be given oxygen in the wings before they were able to go back on stage.
• The demand for tickets was so great that the West End run would be extended. However, Sally Ann Howes had already signed a contract to appear in another play in the United States. Her part was taken by Patricia Michael.
• Whilst playing at the Adelphi Theatre, a block-booking was made by 400 teenage girls – all of whom raced to the stage door after the show in the hope of catching a glimpse of Peter.
• As it’s a custom for the actors in a play to exchange presents, Peter gave Sally Ann Howes a huge sculptured elephant, handmade by craftsmen in Thailand.
• Remembering that the King wears glasses in the show, she gave him a pair of Georgian spectacles. He had the lenses taken out of them, and wore them on stage.
• Peter appeared in all 260 performances of the play.

Above: The Adelphi Theatre in London at the time that ‘The King and I’ was playing there.

Critics Comments

“...Peter Wyngarde’s King is positively endearing…” The Sunday Telegraph – October 1973 “An English schoolmarm highhandedly civilizes the King and his family. Peter, number one son of Siam, was ah-so very good, while Sally Ann Howes made a delightful Anna. Together they make a loveable couple which should keep the coaches coming in.” The Daily Mail – October 17th – 1973 “…Peter Wyngarde  has an enchanting humour with which he makes the part anew. He and Sally Ann Howes are a delightful couple and I can only wish them the happiness they gave me last night.” The Evening News “The King and I (revived at the Adelphi, twenty years after the Drury Lane production), though I daresay there may have been some useful comment on East West relations in the diaries which were the original source of the story. They were kept by Anna Leonowens, an English widow who was employed in the 1860s as governess to the children of the King of Siam (an enthusiastic and tireless sire, he had sixty-seven when she arrived), and who unquestionably had a remarkably civilising social influence as well. Sally Ann Howes plays her here and is in splendid voice, and Peter Wyngarde gives the fractious marmoset of a king a nicely judged plausibility. The settings, I think, lack something of the sumptuosity usually associated with the palaces of nineteenth century Eastern despots, but on the whole the revival is prettily and engagingly done. Richard Rodgers’s score is one of his best (every note belongs, and most of them bewitch), and though Oscar Hammerstein’s lyrics sometimes seem cunningly and commercially designed to fit more general romantic situations than those immediately at hand, if the show is otherwise your bowl of rice, you’ll probably overlook the point.“ The Spectator “Peter Wyngarde touches depths of understanding not always encountered in a musical. This is a spectacle indeed.” The Financial Times “…Peter Wyngardeis personal, charming and finally moving. It wouldn’t surprise me if the show announced limited run stretches on and on well into the New Year. And beyond.” The Daily Express – October 1973 “Sally Ann Howes makes a charming Anna, while the ruler is played by Peter Wyngarde with splendid arrogance.” The Sunday Express

Below: A rare original costume design artwork panel for Peter in the 1973 UK Touring production of ‘ The King And I’.

The original costume design artwork by Terry Parsons, and shows the outfit as worn by Peter in Act I Scene II. Watercolour and mixed media on board. Pencil details to top corner. Rare piece of theatre history. Measures approximately; 44cm x 29cm.

Click below for more about ‘The King and I’